Sherlock Holmes and the Fleet Street Barber
by JCMD
Summary: Inspector Lestrade solicits Sherlock's help in solving a string of missing persons cases. When Sherlock discovers that Sweeney Todd is responsible, he finds that the Fleet Street barber won't be that easy to take down. Todd will force Sherlock to make a moral decision that could impact the lives of hundreds, maybe even thousands.


Sherlock Holmes and the Fleet Street Barber

Chapter 1:

Sherlock Holmes woke early. He could see the sun was just about to rise. Looking out from his flat window he saw the sky as a burst of purple with the faintest glint of red and orange. A pleasant sight, he thought to himself, for an autumn morning in November. He heard the teapot whistle and turned to go into the kitchen and remove it from the burner and pour a cup to help himself wake for the day. He wasn't quite sure what day it was as he hadn't had a case in over two weeks and spent most of the intervening time playing at his violin or conducting experiments he felt might better his methods to solve mysteries and crimes.

As he sat in his reading chair to sip at his tea and read the evening post, which he had not attended to last evening, John Watson left his bedroom and came into the kitchen. "The whistle of the tea kettle woke me. What time is it? It seems a bit early." Watson asked.

"Yes, I rose early. I've been bored I suppose and my internal clock seems to have adjusted in this fashion." Sherlock answered.

"Ah, well then." Watson responded rather indifferently, taking a cup from the cupboard and pouring some tea for himself.

Sherlock, with the newspaper covering his face, asked Watson, "Did you go through those case files I passed on to you? Would you care to personally look into any of them? Frankly they all seem rather dull and boring to me."

"Yes, I did. Why don't you look into the one about the missing gold necklace? The owner is offering a nice reward for its return. We do have financial obligations to meet, you know. A little income from such a case could be very useful."

"But the case is so boring." Sherlock droned, practically whining. "Her daughter took it, and lost it in a wager she had no business taking. But the mother cannot come to bring herself to terms with this, or at the very least does not want to admit publicly that her child is a thief and a liar."

"And just how do you figure all that from the advertisement in the paper?" Watson queried.

Sherlock lowered the newspaper from his face so that Watson could see the smug look he placed on it, but did not say a word.

Watson placed his cup of tea on the side table by his chair facing Sherlock's, threw his arms up in defeat, and sat down while voicing a sigh of resignation. "I don't understand why you don't just put those pieces of the story together for the woman, recover the necklace, and take the reward money."

Just then there was a knock at the door. "A client? This early on a Sunday morning?" Watson asked.

"Ah, Sunday." Sherlock said now having solved the mystery of which day of the week it was.

"Mr. Holmes!" Came the voice from behind the door.

Sherlock recognized the voice as that of Inspector Lestrade.

Sherlock went to the door and opened it. "Inspector Lestrade, how good to see you!" he said enthusiastically in the hopes that Lestrade had come with a worthy case to end his boredom.

"Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson." Lestrade began, "It has come to the attention of the Metropolitan Police that several men residing in London have gone missing. Now, these sorts of things happen all the time, as you know. Men run out on their wives and are never heard from again, or they fall in with the wrong crowd and end up dead in an alleyway or something of the sort and we cannot always identify the body. Sometimes there are disappearances we never solve, including those cases where we never even find a body. As a result, any connection or link between these cases has gone undetected until recently."

"You have my attention Inspector, please do go on." Sherlock stated.

"Well, may I sit down, sir?" Lestrade asked, apparently exhausted.

"Of course, Inspector. Please." Sherlock motioned for Lestrade to sit in one of the living room chairs while Watson took the other and Sherlock sat at his desk, turning the chair to face Lestrade.

"Please, go on." Sherlock insisted once Lestrade had made himself more comfortable.

"Yes, well, two months ago we received reports of six missing persons. Again, not uncommon in London. However, last month we received reports of another six missing persons, all of them men with similar backgrounds and all living in relative close proximity of each other. All twelve are married, have families, go to church regularly, and are of moderate financial means. In other words, these are model citizens, not the type we would expect to see simply just walk away from their normal fact that they all went missing within a two month window and reside close to each other just strikes us as being more than mere coincidence."

"Well, I would have to concur." Sherlock stated. "Did the families speak of any reasons they might have left? Could anyone have been after them? What did the missing men say to anyone that spoke with them just before vanishing?"

"As far as we can tell Mr. Holmes, everything about them seemed usual." Lestrade stated. "None of their families noted anything out of the ordinary."

"Interesting, Inspector. I must admit, this case isn't boring." Sherlock said to the relief of Watson as much as to Lestrade.

"So you will help then?" Lestrade asked, practically pleading.

"I think that is a yes, Inspector. We will get on it right away." Watson interjected.

Sherlock, somewhat perturbed that Watson had spoken for him, nonetheless gave Lestrade a nod of his head to indicate they would indeed take the case.

Chapter 2

That afternoon Sherlock began the arduous task of compiling every news story he could find relating to the case, as well as missing persons reports given to him by Scotland Yard. "You know, Watson, we may be dealing with more than twelve missing men. These missing might be the only ones that can be accounted for." Sherlock stated.

"I hate to think on it." Watson responded.

"Well now, this is very interesting." Sherlock said with an inquisitive inflection as he held up news clipping in each of his hands as to get a better look by holding them toward the light peering through the large window facing Baker Street.

"What is it?"

"When looking at these news reports at least four of the missing men were last seen on or near Fleet Street. That seems rather significant, wouldn't you agree?"

"Perhaps. However, Inspector Lestrade stated that they all lived near one another. It might be significant, but that doesn't seem all that out of the ordinary I suppose."

"Yes, except considering that the one who lived farthest from Fleet Street is one of those that was last seen there. The least likely one to be on Fleet Street was there, and vanished soon after. He was last seen at St. Dunstan's Church by a Reverend Smith. Watson, perhaps we should pay the Reverend a visit and see what he can tell us."

Chapter 3

Sherlock and Watson took a hansom from Baker Street to Fleet Street, where they stopped in front of St. Dunstan's Church to speak with Reverend Smith, the man who was identified in the papers as being the last to note one of the disappeared victim's whereabouts. Finding the front entrance to the church open, as people often came and went throughout the day for personal prayer, the two walked in.

It was quiet inside the church, except for one person praying in a hushed whispered tone, another clearing their throat, and the soft sound of footsteps on the wood flooring as a man got up from one of the pews and walked towards the exit, past Sherlock and Watson.

As if to intentionally break the virtual silence and shock the dozen or so people in the church, Sherlock blurted loudly, "Is Reverend Smith in today by chance? We would very much like to speak with him!" After a small number of the praying church-goers jumped in alarm, they turned to look at Sherlock from their kneeling positions to cast an unpleasant look at him.

Just then a small, frail elderly man came into view from the alter. "Yes, yes, what is it?"

"Reverend Smith, is it?" asked Sherlock.

"Yes, I'm Reverend Smith. How may I be of service to you gentlemen?" the reverend asked as he approached the consulting detective.

"Hello, I am Sherlock Holmes and this is my colleague Dr. John Watson and we are here on behalf of the Metropolitan Police trying to identify the whereabouts of several missing men. Now, according to the papers, you are the last person known to have spoken with a Mr. Anthony Jones, who has been missing for almost a month. Could you elaborate for us what you said to the papers? Can you recall any information that you hadn't told the papers? Anything would be helpful and appreciated." Sherlock asked the reverend.

"Ah, yes. I do recall speaking with the papers about Mr. Jones. I only knew it was him from the picture because he occasionally came by the church to pray in the afternoon. He is a very nice man. He would, whenever he found someone in the church who looked like they could use someone to talk to, or even if they just needed a meal, he would take them next door and buy them a meat pie at Mrs. Lovett's." The reverend informed them.

"And is that what Mr. Jones did on the last day that you saw him?" Watson asked.

"Well, sort of. He asked an elderly lady to lunch. Mrs. Darcy. Oh, the poor old woman, her husband died of a heart attack last summer. Anyway, she has been so lonely, and she spends much of her day here at the church, and Mr. Jones stated to me that it looked as though she hadn't eaten in days so he approached her and invited her to lunch. But she refused. She said she didn't want to go to Mrs. Lovett's. Then she took off. At that, Mr. Jones came to me and asked if I knew of any good barbers in the area, saying that he'd go have lunch and then a shave before going home. I told him there were two in the immediate area, one owned by Mr. Kemp and the other Mr. Todd. But both of them said they hadn't seen him. I'm sorry that I don't have more to tell you gentlemen, but that is really all I know."

"Thank you Reverend Smith, your insight has been most informative." Sherlock assured him.

Sherlock then turned to Watson and said, "I think we should break for lunch John. Apparently they sell meat pies next door."

With that the two turned to leave and walked out of the church. Watson was glad, as he had only had half of a cup of tea that morning and no breakfast and by late afternoon he felt famished. A meat pie sounded most appetizing to him just then.

Chapter 4

Sherlock Holmes and John Watson went next door to Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pies. They knew they had the right place from the large dark sign with gold lettering noting the proprietor's name and her 'famous meat pies'. As they opened the door a small bell attached to the top of the doorway rang, to alert the proprietor that customers had just arrived. Although the weather outside was cool and brisk due to a stiff breeze, it felt warm and toasty in the restaurant. Sherlock's nose began to twitch. He smelt a fire but the smells he noted did not match what he saw burning on the small fire behind the service counter. He concluded that there must be another fire close by, larger. He didn't notice any meat being cooked on the one in front of him, and he had the distinct smell of animal flesh being roasted on a fire. He seemed puzzled because it did not smell like beef or chicken, pork mayhaps? He wasn't sure.

"Ah, welcome gentlemen!" Mrs. Lovett said cheerfully as she walked through an open door frame leading to the dining area of her establishment.

"What can I get you two fine gentlemen this afternoon? A bit of a late lunch today it would seem, but we are always making fresh meat pies here." Mrs. Lovett assured her new customers.

"We?" Sherlock asked.

Mrs. Lovett paused and looked at them for a few seconds while she wiped flour from her hands onto a washcloth she had picked up from the sales counter.

"Why little Tobias and meself. He's down in the baking room just about to pull some fresh pies out of the oven for this evening's supper rush; or as it appears, your lunch."

"Two meat pies and two ales, please!" Sherlock said enthusiastically.

"Coming right up, gents. Please, take a seat. I'll be back with your meals shortly." Mrs. Lovett said to the two of them and then promptly disappeared, going through the door frame from which she had previously emerged.

Sherlock and Watson removed their hats and coats and sat down at a wooden booth in the far corner of the restaurant near a window where they could see the life of Fleet Street happening all around them. Sherlock took out his pipe, set a pouch of tobacco on the wooden table, packet the pipe, lit it and sat back as he began to smoke.

"So, what is your theory, Sherlock?" Watson asked.

"How about I just say it is too early to tell, because I really don't think you will like the one I am developing at the moment." Sherlock responded.

"What is that supposed to mean? When has Sherlock Holmes ever cared what I think of his theories? If it pans out to be the truth so be it." Watson said with equal parts confusion and annoyance.

"Only time will tell. I can't be certain at this moment. Perhaps I'll have a better idea during the next one" was all Sherlock thought appropriate to say.

Just then Mrs. Lovett came back from the other room with their meat pies and ale on a large round tray. "Here you are, lads. Two fresh meat pies and two pints of ale. Enjoy." she said as she placed their meals in front of them. When she had finished she walked back to the sales counter where she went to knead and roll more dough while her customers ate.

Watson, upon seeing and smelling the meat pie in front of him grew a large smile on his face, reached for his fork and sunk it into the meat pie. While doing this, Sherlock gave a smile back at Watson, but did not actually seem amused. He took his fork and began cutting the meat pie into quarters. As Watson took his first bite and began to chew, Sherlock pulled each of the quarters apart from each other and bent his head and looked down as to inspect the contents of the pie. Sherlock heard Watson swallow his first bite of the pie and it gave Holmes a discomforting shiver. Watson proceeded to wash down the bite with a healthy gulp of ale. After placing the drinking glass back down on the table Watson went to fork a second bite of the meat pie. Just then Sherlock stuck his fork into one of the pie quarters, but from the side instead of the top, as if to pull something out from the filling of the pie. Watson, at that instant took notice of Sherlock's bizarre behavior and stared at him with a puzzled look as he filled his mouth again with the contents of his fork.

Sherlock then spoke to Watson in a hushed but urgent tone. "Watson, do not eat another bite. And whatever you do, stay calm. Do not overreact. I want to show you something."

Watson instantly stopped chewing and his face grew serious as he began pondering what he had just eaten. Sherlock pulled the fork from the pie quarter revealing a small pinkish-white piece of meat at the end of it. Mrs. Lovett had seemed oblvious to all this and had set down her rolling pin and started for the other room, humming to herself all the while. By the time Mrs. Lovett had vanished from the room it became clear to Watson what Sherlock was showing him. Watson's face grew ghostly white. Any apatite he had before starting his lunch had instantly vanished and he felt his stomach begin to turn and wrench when he realized that at the end of Sherlock's fork were the remains of a human fingertip with the fingernail hanging from a small piece of skin.

Watson's face went from white to green, from shock to disgust after the quick realization that he had swallowed some of the meat and still had some in his mouth. He then covered his mouth and ran out of the restaurant to vomit on a pile of leaves outside. While Watson was relieving himself of everything that was in his stomach, Sherlock plucked the fingertip from his fork and placed it in his waistcoat pocket. He then took a big swig of the ale, picked up both of the meat pies and began to walk out. Just then Mrs. Lovett returned. "Leaving so soon are we?" Completely oblivious to everything that had just happened. Sherlock pointed to Watson with a look on his face suggesting 'look at this poor fellow,' and finally telling the restaurateur, "Apparently he has no taste for ale."

Chapter 5

Sherlock put his arm around Watson as he finished emptying the contents of his stomach. "There, there. Get it all out now, you'll be fine, my dear Watson." He said as he tried to comfort his sick friend.

As soon as Watson was capable of speaking he said to Sherlock angrily, albeit still hunched over and prepared, if not expecting, to vomit again at any instant, "Holmes, you knew what it was, and you didn't tell me. Why on Earth did you let me eat that? Sherlock, I'm a cannibal thanks to you! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, to be quite honest, I wasn't certain that it was human remains in the pies. I didn't want to give you a false impression. I just needed to confirm my hypothesis." Sherlock answered.

"Well before you said it was a theory, now you're trying to downplay what you had already suspected!" Watson retorted, fuming.

"Well now we know for certain at any rate. Watson, think of all the unsuspecting people that have eaten these cannibal meat pies. At least you were tipped off before eating the whole pie. Watson, this is where those missing men ended up, in the digestive tracts of Mrs. Lovett's customers. The only real question now, is how did they get there?"

"Well surely she must have killed them, mutilated the bodies, and then… oh, good God…" Watson was unable to finish this thought before vomiting again into the pile of leaves.

"No, no, no. That isn't it Watson." Just then Sherlock looked up to see a staircase leading to an upstairs barbershop, as indicated by a barber's pole next to the door. "I think I'd like to go see the barber at the top of those stairs. The reverend did say that Mr. Jones had inquired about visiting a barber just before he disappeared."

"And what about me? Should I just stay here?" Watson asked, now annoyed.

"Go find a nearby pub, have a stiff drink to help get your wits about you, and meet me in the barbershop, in say, fifteen minutes?"

"Very well." Watson said. He then stood up straight, took a deep breath through his mouth, exhaled, and went off to find the closest pub.

Chapter 6

Just then, and as though to suggest a terrible omen, the sky grew gray and and a soft but steady rain began. Sherlock popped the collar of his coat and pushed down on his hat to ensure that it was properly affixed on his head. Sherlock then proceeded to go up the stairs adjacent to Mrs. Lovett's leading upstairs to Mr. Todd's barber shop. When he reached the top of the stairs he noticed three numbers and a name in metal digits '185 Todd', this was the only indication that owned the property.

Sherlock opened the door and walked in. His attention was immediately drawn to a barber's chair. The occupant of the chair was staring out of a large and wide window, his back facing Sherlock. Sherlock noticed that he had a full, albeit somewhat unkempt plume of black hair with a thick streak of white. He wore long white sleeves and the palms of his hands were covered with a pair of small black gloves, the tips of his fingers exposed. In his right hand was a straight razor he was fiddling, revealing the blade and then with a twist of his wrist, hiding it again within the handle of the blade.

Sherlock could hear the rain outside coming down harder now. He saw it on the window spanning over half of the wall Mr. Todd was looking out. Sherlock then cleared his throat as to alert Mr. Todd that someone was in his barbershop. The chair spun around to reveal a very pale man of average size, wearing a black vest and black pants with vertical white stripes. "Hello there, how about a shave?" Todd said in a voice that was a mix of equal parts mania and thrilling excitement, as though a shave would be an adventure to give as well as to receive.

"Mr. Todd, I presume?" Asked Sherlock.

"Sweeney Todd. And how might I be of service to you today, Mr…?" Todd said as he stood up from his chair.

"Holmes. Sherlock Holmes. I am here on behalf of the Metropolitan Police investigating the bizarre disappearances of several London men living around the Fleet Street area. I understand that the police have already asked you if you know anything about the disappearance of one Mr. Jones, claiming that after he left St. Dunstan's he intended to have lunch at Mrs. Lovett's, below your establishment, and then to have a shave here before returning home."

"I told the police that I know nothing about that." Todd responded.

"Yes, but even so. Doesn't it seem strange to you that a man would say to someone in the building next door that he intended to come to these two establishments right away, and then he doesn't?" Sherlock questioned.

"Perhaps. And maybe he did come here. I just don't know. The police showed me a picture of him, but I'm not too good with remembering faces I suppose." Todd stated.

"Well, what types of things do you usually discuss with your clients? Perhaps you might be able to recall some forgotten details." Sherlock tried to refresh Todd's memory.

"Take a look around Mr. Holmes. Do I look like the type of man who wants to sit around and chit-chat with the customers? People come to me because I'm the best barber in London. And I can assure you, no one gives as close a shave as I do." Todd said with the slightest little smile forming at the right of his mouth.

At this Sherlock scanned the room. It was cold, not so much the temperature of the room, although that wasn't to Sherlock's liking either. The atmosphere was cold. It was dingy. It had clearly been cleaned recently, but it still felt dusty, grimy, dirty even. The room had a few chairs along the wall by the door for waiting customers. Aside from these, there was a single barber's chair and workstation equipped with a large mirror and Sweeney Todd's tools of trade. A door leading to what one would presume to be a water closet; otherwise the room was completely empty. There was no decor to liven the place and no attempt at creating a pleasant atmosphere for his customers. There were no pictures or anything indicating some type of life that Sweeney Todd had outside of his trade. No wife, no children. Nothing.

Upon these observations Holmes quickly made an analysis of the man he had just become acquainted with.

'He hates the world. He is lonely. He doesn't trust anyone. He seeks revenge against those that have wronged him, but his hatred of those individuals has grown into a general hatred of mankind. He believes he has nothing to live for, although he wishes to have a life for himself and values his liberty. A deep mistrust of people in official capacities. He views me as some official and does not trust me because of my association with the police.'

"Well it is unfortunate that you cannot recall anything regarding Mr. Jones. His wife and children are desperately hoping that he will return home, safe and sound." Sherlock informed Todd. At this Todd went to sharpening the razor that had been in his hand. He looked down at his work and gave a simple grin and a muted chuckle. "I'm sure they would." was all he said to Sherlock.

Sherlock, in an attempt to continue his conversation with Sweeney Todd, who clearly wasn't going to say more than was absolutely necessary, asked the barber, "So how about that shave?"

Chapter 7

A small, albeit the brightest smile Sherlock had seen from Todd appeared on the barber's face. "Absolutely. Let's do it." Todd said,motioning to the chair, again with a manic tone that seemed to imply both adventure and risk. "Please, take off your coat and hat and have a seat." Sherlock hung his coat and hat on the coat rack near the door and made his way toward the barber's chair. As he did so, Todd took several more passes at his blade sharpener. Sherlock sat in the chair and got as comfortable as possible, although the chair was one of the least comfortable he had ever sat in. As Todd began whipping the shaving foam, Holmes noticed several oddities about the chair and determined to investigate from his seated position.

"Now, lay back and be still so I can put the foam on your face. You want to get a good close shave now, don't you?" Todd instructed and asked him.

"Ah, yes. Well, I do have to admit Mr. Todd that there isn't anything quite like a good shave. You just feel so refreshed after it is all over." Sherlock said with the intention of making Todd more comfortable with idle conversation.

"That's why I've made it my life's work, Mr. Holmes." was all Todd replied, clearly not one for chit-chat.

"So how long have you been a barber, exactly?"

Todd told Sherlock to try not to talk so much while he spread the shaving foam over the stubble of his cheeks, chin, and throat.

"Ah, yes, sorry. Please continue Mr. Todd." Sherlock apologized.

"I've been a barber a long time. My father was before me. It is a family trade."

Once Sweeney Todd finished lathering Sherlock's face, he placed his lather tin on the work counter, took the razor, leaned over his client, and began taking slow and steady passes removing the foam and small stubble hairs from Sherlock's face.

"So, how familiar are you with the woman who works below you, Mrs. Lovett? My colleague and I stopped for lunch at her establishment a short while ago." Sherlock said.

"Ah, Mrs. Lovett. Yes, she is something, isn't she." Todd responded, but did not elaborate further.

Todd continued to shave Sherlock and what seemed like several moments of silence ensued. Todd appeared fixated on his craft and Sherlock determined that any further questioning might bring on suspicion as to his motives; perhaps suggesting that Todd himself might be implicated in the disappearance of the men and the human remains in Mrs. Lovett's meat pies. With about half his work complete, Todd stood, and turned away from Sherlock, giving no reason at all for this. Sherlock simply sat in the chair waiting for Todd to complete the job. Todd took a deep breath and exhaled, his back facing Sherlock. At this, while confused as to Todd's erratic behavior, Sherlock decided to examine the chair further, albeit from his disadvantageous seated position. He noticed at his right hand side a lever of sorts. He strained to turned his head back further to see if he could determine the purpose of this lever, as it did not appear directly attached to the chair. Rather, it appeared attached to the floor boards which struck Sherlock as odd. Sherlock then noticed that the flooring around the chair looked different from the rest of the room. He hadn't noticed it before because of the dull lighting, and the limited natural light coming into the room from the large window, on account of the gray rainy outdoor sky. He turned his head back to its original position, Sherlock was starting to panic as a sinister thought crept into his head. Just then he noticed Todd extending his right arm as though winding up to throw a small ball, but in his hand was the razor. Just then Todd's limbs and the muscles in his back could be seen contorting as though he was about to make a swift movement.

The door burst open and Watson nearly spilled into the room trying to escape the rain outside as quickly as possible. "Sherlock?" he asked as he entered the barbershop. Shock could be read on Todd's face as he jumped in alarm upon seeing someone rush through the door.

"Ah, Watson! I was just getting a quick shave while you were out." Sherlock said, surprisingly calm given the strange feeling that had now begun to overwhelm him as a result of Todd's strange behavior and the unpleasing atmosphere of the barber's establishment.

Todd quickly composed himself and said, "If you wait just one moment sir, I was just about to polish him off, as it were."

"Please, by all means, continue." Watson took a seat by the door and waited until Todd was done shaving Sherlock's face.

Upon completion of his task Todd tossed a clean white towel at Sherlock to wipe his face of the excess foam and bits of hair that did not wipe away with the blade.

"I hope you have found my services to be to your satisfaction Mr. Holmes. Please, do come by again, soon." Todd stated, but this time in the tone of a businessman hoping to retain a customer.

"Why thank you Mr. Todd, this has been an enjoyable and fascinating experience. Good day to you." Sherlock said pleasantly.

Before turning to leave, Sherlock approached Sweeney Todd, placed a few coins in his hand to compensate him for his services. The two then had a look into each other's eyes. Todd gave Holmes a long and seemingly sinister smile. Sherlock responded with a quick smile expressing amusement. Holmes then turned to Watson and signalled to the door. The two then proceed back to Baker Street.

Chapter 8

That evening Sherlock and Watson were back at Baker Street. Watson was finally able to calm his nerves after his cannibalistic experience earlier in the day. He sat there staring at Holmes, anger written on his face. Every few minutes Watson had to turn his gaze away from Sherlock so as to stand being in the same room with him. Sherlock wanted to speak but was quite sure that if he dared Watson may very well punch him square in the nose. Therefore, Sherlock contented himself with some tea and a cigar. After a few moments Watson finally spoke, "Do you have one for me?" indicating the cigar.

"Why of course. It is the very least I can do." Sherlock responded, and then promptly took a cigar out of the small humidor for Watson.

"Thank you." Watson replied. He thought the taste of the cigar and the enjoyment it brought might help remove the taste of the meat pie, which had either clung to his mouth or had so haunted his mind it became impossible to rid himself of its horror.

After about ten minutes, and several puffs of the cigar, Watson felt ready to discuss the case with Holmes. Sherlock was relieved that Watson finally broke the silence and wanted to discuss the case rather than detailing his anger at him for not telling him about the meat pie sooner.

"So, did you find any connection between the barber and the disappearances?"

"Watson, you know, the barber had quite a fascinating contraption. Did you observe his barber's chair?"

"I saw it. What of it?"

"You see, it had a lever on it. On the right hand side. I was puzzled as to what it was, because I could make no connection as to what it did to the chair. But then I noticed Mr. Todd's disregard for cleanliness. You see, the barber does not do a very thorough job when he cleans his establishment. You may have noticed that some spots along the floor and walls appeared to have been scrubbed so much that the paint had been rubbed off while in other areas it was dingy and grimy. This indicates that he is trying to hide certain messes, while messes from common dust and dirt are of no concern to him.

"Then I noticed that the flooring immediately behind where the customer sits in the chair looked as though it had been wiped clean as well, but the rest of the floor appeared in desperate need of a broom and a mop. Now why would a man be so concern to only clean half of his mess? Well, I also noticed that Mrs. Lovett's has two fires going. One in the shop, but that is not where the meat for the pies is cooked, the meat is prepared in a fire in the basement."

"Hold on, hold on, Sherlock. What does Mrs. Lovett's basement and the fire have to do with Sweeney Todd's barber's chair and his bizarre cleaning habits?" Watson questioned, not following Sherlock's train of thought.

"Todd is killing the men, dumping the bodies from his barber's chair into Mrs. Lovett's basement and then she disposes of the bodies by cooking them and feeding them to well, you." Sherlock said, albeit with hesitation and sympathy in his voice at the last part.

"Well then, that settles it. Let's get Lestrade back here right away, tell him and have those two beasts arrested." Watson said, nostrils flaring and anger in his voice.

"In time Watson. But I am curious as to why this arrangement exists. Perhaps we should confront Mr. Todd again tomorrow. Afterwards we will inform Scotland Yard.

Chapter 9

"Back so soon are we?" Sweeney Todd said when he saw Sherlock and Watson enter his upstairs barber shop. "Perhaps the good doctor would like a shave today."

"Maybe another time" Watson said.

"Well then, if I can't give you a shave, what brings you here today?" Todd asked.

"Six men a month, if not more, Mr. Todd. With murder at that rate, you were bound to be caught eventually." Sherlock said revealing his knowledge of Todd's crimes, thus getting to the heart of the matter and reason for his and Watson's visit.

"Ah, well, now we come to it. I suspect you will want to have me arrested then." Todd said in an insouciant tone.

"Well, did you do it, Todd?" Watson asked.

"Oh, gentlemen." Todd said, now amused as he perceived Sherlock and Watson playing coy with him. He knew they were too smart not to know his part in this game. "I guess there isn't really a point in trying to convince you that I didn't, isn't that right Mr. Holmes? What gave it away, the chair? The near slitting of your throat while you sat in it? Ha, were it not for the doctor entering at just the right moment to keep you alive, well, what do you think of that?"

Sherlock's response avoided the obvious peril his own life had been in and instead, he directed matters to the case. "Well, I must say that when Inspector Lestrade informed me that all of the missing were men, I had already figured that the murderer must be someone who would have access to male clients and someone whom the victims believed they could trust. All signs were pointing in your direction Mr. Todd. You made it too obvious."

"Well, obvious to you perhaps. But not for the vermin out there. Or for the useless shits you serve. The truth of the matter is Mr. Holmes, you are too busy begging those enforcers of the law for work to keep you from getting bored, and all the while you don't see what London's so-called leaders are doing right under your nose." Todd waxed on.

"Oh, well, by all means, enlighten us Mr. Todd." Sherlock said in an amused tone.

"I am only, and have always only ever been after one man, Mr. Holmes. Once I have that man, I'll stop. I don't care what happens after that. But consider this. No matter how many I kill, many many more are going to die. Hundreds, thousands, but likely millions. I've killed twelve. Maybe a few more than that." The barber wore a smirk on his face at this revelation, "But what are a dozen or so that I've killed in comparison with the hundreds and thousands that will die at the hands of warring nations?"

"What are you babbling about, Todd?" Sherlock asked, now more irritated than amused.

"That Mr. Jones you inquired about. You could say that I did the country a great favor by polishing off that one." Todd stated, attempting to peak Sherlock's interest again.

"Go on." Sherlock said, intrigued, but still somewhat bored by this proceeding.

"I slashed his throat. He was sitting right there." Todd pointed and looked toward the barber's chair. "He must have had quite a few ales at Mrs. Lovett's. He was drunk. Turns out that your Mr. Jones was a government spy. He met with his German contact at the church, St. Dunstan's. He sold them intelligence. On that day he came in for a shave. He seemed very much in need to talk to anyone that would listen. I didn't really care to talk with him, but I thought, why not? Let the man speak a few words and then I'll make it impossible for him to speak again. He boasted about how 'important he was' and how he could single-handedly influence world events. He told me, in his drunken stupor, that he had provided the Germans with a recipe for a lethal gas to be used on the fields of battle. It would allow the Germans to turn Britain's own weapon against her people."

"Very well then, the traitor is dead and if the Germans already possess the means to make the gas, what else can you give us, Todd? Are we to report back to Scotland Yard that her Majesty's lethal gas has been handed over to the Germans? Do you really think the authorities will allow you to escape at least twelve charges of murder with that? Besides, you killed the traitor. You can no longer offer him up to us."

"Ah, but you are missing a crucial detail Mr. Holmes. The German spy is still here in London. I don't know what else Mr. Jones told him, but I do know who the spy is. Mr. Jones told me. I've seen him. I'm sure Scotland Yard, not to mention her Majesty, might be interested in getting their hands on this German spy."

"And what do you want for him, your freedom?" Watson asked, laughing at the thought of letting Todd go free.

Todd gave a short chuckle and a quick smile at the word. "Freedom. London is just filled with freedom isn't it?" Todd said sarcastically. "The information I have might save thousands of lives should war break across Europe. So what if I've killed a small number? Ah, but compare that to what I could help you save. Leave me to my work. Allow me to get my affairs in order, I'll leave, but I'll give you the information before I do." Todd asked of Holmes and Watson.

"You are asking us to leave you alone, to escape?" Sherlock now amused to the point of laughter. He thought to himself that surely Sweeney Todd must be insane. "To allow you to continue killing and have Mrs. Lovett serve human remains just so you can continue to go after this someone, this one man you say? Who, pray tell, are you after." Sherlock asked.

"Just leave me to the man I need to have my revenge and I will give you the man you're after." Todd, now hoping that Sherlock would see the merit to allowing him to go free, if only for now.

"You seem to forget Mr. Todd that you are the man we are after." Sherlock reminded him. "Our concern is not your personal vandetta."

"You can hand me over to Scotland Yard right now Mr. Holmes, but you'll never get the German spy if you do. This is the choice you'll have to make." Todd explained to Holmes and Watson.

Watson looked to Holmes with a grave look of dismay. "Sherlock, you can't let this man walk free. Not after what he's done."

"Patience, Watson." Sherlock responded, eyes still fixed on Sweeney Todd. "Let him go, for now. Todd, if we walk out of here, you will have one day to send the information on the German spy to 221 B Baker Street. After that time we will hunt you down." Sherlock gave Todd the terms of his offer.

"Sherlock! We can't trust him! What will keep him from leaving here and never returning?" Watson pleaded with Holmes.

"Here." Todd took one of his razors from a case on top his work station and handed the case and the remainder of its contents to Sherlock. "I'd never leave my friends behind, again that is. Not after what happened last time. I'll give you the information in twenty-four hours. I'll finish my work here and then return to you. Then do as you will."

With that, Sherlock and Watson gave the Demon Barber a nod and left for Baker Street.

Chapter 10

"Sherlock." Watson pleaded with Holmes, "You may very well have just sentenced a man to die at the hands of Sweeney Todd when it can still be prevented. Sherlock, you don't get to decide who lives and who dies!"

"Exactly, Watson. Todd is making that decision." Sherlock, now enraged, more at the catch-22 in which he found himself than at Watson's fury at his handling of the situation. "Watson, would you have me hand Todd over to Lestrade now, so that your soldier brethren can choke to their deaths on their own country's poison gas?"

"Sherlock, that is unfair." Watson pleaded.

"Well, answer me, John." Sherlock trying to emphasize that this wasn't an easy situation for him either. "Tell me what you would do. Do you really think Todd would give up anything once he has lost his freedom, again? He is a man with nothing to gain and nothing to lose." Sherlock now forcing Watson to address the problem.

"I don't have to like it, Sherlock." Watson said, now much calmer than a moment ago.

"I don't like it either, John."

Sherlock poured each of them a dram of whiskey and they sat in silence, trying not to think further on the day's events, or what schemes Sweeney Todd might be up to at that very moment.

Chapter 11

Sherlock was woken the next morning by a knock at the flat door. He got out of bed, threw on his robe, and went to the door. Upon opening, he did not see anyone standing at the door, but an envelope was left on the floor. "The Information you Requested" was all it said. Sherlock opened the package to find a single leaf of paper with a name and address on it. "Heinrich Schneider, 125 Fleet Street, London"

'He was right there, on the very same street. Amusing that he met his British contact in a church on his own street.' Sherlock thought. "Watson!" He yelled with intent to wake John and alert him to the letter and the alleged contact.

"What is it Sher…." Watson began to ask while exiting his room then saw Sherlock holding the letter with the information Todd has promised to supply. "Well, let's hope the information turns up to be something of importance. I do hope we haven't just been taken for fools." Watson, still hesitant about trusting the homicidal barber.

"Watson, let's take this to the Metropolitan Police and see what Lestrade can do with it." Sherlock said, invigorated and readied for action.

"Right. We should, but Sherlock, how do we explain this to Lestrade? We got the information by allowing a serial murderer, in our grasp, to go free on the condition that he supply this information, which might not even be accurate? What will Lestrade think?"

Sherlock paused and took a deep breath before responding. Although Sherlock Holmes has never been one to understand the practicality of social norms, he could see the merit in observing the current situation as being one of a delicate nature. "I suppose, Watson, that if the information is accurate and many more lives are saved as a result, Lestrade will find a way to live with this information, just as you and I must. I believe that we would both agree, this is not ideal, and I have had my own moral reckonings with this case, but I do believe we are doing what is best under the circumstances."

Sherlock and Watson went to the police and asked to speak with Inspector Lestrade. The constable at the desk told them that Lestrade would be with them momentarily and to have a seat while they waited. Sherlock was irritated that he was being made to wait. As he and Watson sat waiting for Lestrade, Sherlock began to think about how this time could be used in taking down Sweeney Todd. Although Sherlock was doing his best to hide it, he, like John Watson, did not trust Sweeney Todd to keep his word; with the exception of course that Todd would without doubt hunt down and kill the man he sought revenge against. That was the message Todd made clear to them by retaining one of his razors before handing over his so-called friends to Sherlock.

After nearly forty-five minutes Inspector Lestrade finally emerged from his office. "Ah, Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson, I am so glad to see you. I received your telegram from earlier this morning saying that you had urgent information. I do apologize for the wait, other business."

Sherlock felt slighted. He either could not, or perhaps would not, admit to himself that Lestrade had other matters he believed to be as or perhaps more pressing as this case. Of course, Sherlock knew details about the case that Lestrade did not. Sherlock was certain that had he been aware, he would have seen the urgency of the matter. "Well, Inspector Lestrade, I do hope that you will find what I am about to share with you to be worth your while." Sherlock was obviously annoyed by being forced to wait.

Sherlock and Watson went into Lestrade's office and explained the information regarding the poison gas, the traitor, and the German spy. Lestrade could hardly believe it. Sherlock was careful not to divulge the information about letting Todd go after confronting him about the murders. Sherlock only told Lestrade about his first encounter with Todd and explained how the barber fit into the crime based on the information of that first encounter. This was all true of course, but both Sherlock and Watson realized that in discussing the second meeting they might do considerable damage to their reputations and might even be considered accessories to any future murders Todd might commit.

After Sherlock had explained what he knew, Lestrade assembled a team to go with him to arrest Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovett. Another team was sent to the address of the alleged German spy, Heinrich Schneider. Sherlock went with Lestrade while Watson went with the secondary team to snag the spy.

Sherlock, Lestrade, and the team of constables arrived at Mrs. Lovett's to find the property vacant. Her eatery clearly hadn't been open that day and it didn't appear as though she was preparing for evening meal service, although the smell of the fire in the basement was felt and smelled by all. However, when they went upstairs to Sweeney Todd's, they came in to see a gruesome sight. Blood was splattered on the wall, puddles of it on the floor, the barber's chair reclined and revealing a hole in the floor. Sherlock looked down into the void to see where it led. Lestrade peered over him to get a better look himself. They noticed what was clearly a body, contorted, and resting directly below them, several dozen feet at least.

"Hello!" Lestrade yelled. "Are you in need of assistance?" No response. The body appeared frozen, despite the flicker of what must have been a large fire coming from somewhere in the basement, the flicker of the flames reflecting off the body. Sherlock and Lestrade could feel the warmth of the fire coming up through the hole in the floor. "So this is where he slit their throats and then dropped the bodies?" Lestrade asked Sherlock.

"Yes, it would appear so." Sherlock replied. "Afterwards, it is my theory, that Mrs. Lovett would take the bodies and dispose of them in her meat pies."

At this the constables gazed at each other, each with a look of shock and disgust written on their faces. One was so distraught that he vomited.

Sherlock looked to the sickened constable and warned him, "I suspect, constable, that you are going to need a very strong stomach for what you are about to encounter down there."

Lestrade, sensing a need for urgency ordered his men, "Quick, let's get down there, someone may still be there, hiding, or in the act of a crime."

Chapter 12

Two of the constables forced open the door to Heinrich Schneider's house on Fleet Street after receiving no response upon knocking.

Upon entering the residency one of the constables yelled, "Police!". Just then they heard a gunshot followed by a man yelling, clearly in German. Schneider was in the next room, against a wall, just out of sight. He was telling the police and Watson not to come any further as he had a bomb strapped to his chest and would use it if they did not leave him alone.

Watson, a man who was no stranger to these tense, warlike situations, attempted to reason with the spy. "As you must be aware, we know you are a spy, and that you are passing on state secrets to the German government. Killing yourself now will not change anything. We already know what information you have passed on to your government and what information you haven't." Watson was lying. "If you surrender now we can make sure that your family is provided for. What do you think the Kaiser is going to do with them once you are exposed as a failed operative?"

"It wasn't supposed to be like this." The spy responded, now in English with a heavy German accent, still hiding behind the wall. "The wretch Jones squealed about me to that sadistic lunatic Todd."

"Yes, but that is all over now. Give yourself up and let us deal with this like men, not cowards that hide behind walls with bombs strapped to their chests." Watson protested.

"I won't go to prison!"

"Then work with us and not against us. Help us to correct the damage you've done by sending the Germans conflicting information." Watson, now trying to bargain with the frightened Schneider.

"Very well." Schneider said, much to Watson's surprise. Watson feared that this might be too good to be true. The constables went to move into the room where the spy was hiding from them, believing the spy was ready to surrender. Watson extended his arm, grabbing at the lead constable's chest. Watson have him a stern and direct look, shaking his head but not saying a word.

"Then secure and discard the bomb." Watson instructed the spy.

Just then there was a flash of light followed by a loud boom and the sound of window glass crashing against the floor. The bomb had gone off, but, fortunately, was not big enough to pose a threat to Watson or the constables standing well behind the wall on the far side of the other room. Aside from some dust and debris that cling to their clothes and faces, they were unharmed. Watson and the constables, pleased with their luck that it was either a poorly constructed bomb or a partial dud, moved to secure the scene, albeit a ghastly one as a result of the spy's body, which had absorbed much of the force of the bomb.

Chapter 13

Sherlock Holmes and Inspector Lestrade came upon a bloody and horrific scene once they managed to gain access to Mrs. Lovett's basement. Strewn across the cement floor of the bakery and butchery below Mrs. Lovett's restaurant were the bodies of Sweeney Todd, local magistrate Judge Turpin, and an unidentifiable woman, who, by appearances must have been a so-called 'unfortunate'. All of them had their throats slit, and Judge Turpin's contorted pose indicated that he had been the one dropped from Todd's barber's chair above. Lestrade instructed a constable to stop the fire in the large oven that was burning and could be felt by all, at an extreme temperature.

"Where's Tobias?" Sherlock asked.

"Who?" Lestrade responded.

"Tobias, Mrs. Lovett's ward, or something of the like. For that matter, where is Mrs. Lovett?"

Lestrade's countenance became visible with stress. "You mean there was a child here?" He asked Sherlock.

"Mrs. Lovett shared with Watson and myself that a child named Tobias worked in this kitchen."

Just then the constable had stopped the blaze coming from the oven. Sherlock then turned to him and said, "You will want to open that, but do so carefully."

The constable looked to Lestrade for approval. Lestrade gave a nod in the affirmative. The constable opened the oven to reveal a sight of true horror. A woman's body, burned completely over, charred skin hanging off the bones of the arms and legs, only a few strands of hair remained atop the scorched skull.

"Is it Mrs. Lovett?" Lestrade asked Sherlock.

"I believe it is safe to assume so."

"What happened here?" Lestrade said as he tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together in his mind.

"Well, a tragic story it would appear, has come to a tragic conclusion." Sherlock began. "Benjamin Barker, known now by the name of Sweeney Todd, had been wrongfully incarcerated and then exiled by Judge Turpin, as a result of a jealous love affair in which the Judge defamed Todd as a means to win Todd's lover. When Mrs. Todd was believed to have poisoned herself, she had in reality been kicked out of Judge Turpin's home when the judge discovered his fondness for his ward, Todd's daughter Johanna. Imagine the scandal looming with such a prospect. Anyway, Todd sought revenge against Turpin and he tirelessly worked to get Turpin to visit his barber shop in order to slit his throat. Todd and Lovett had an agreement to help each other. Lovett's business was faltering, as Watson and I were able to conclude upon visiting her shop and seeing the drastic measures she had taken to revive her business. In exchange for providing her with human remains, Todd had found an accomplice to help him, ultimately, dispose of Turpin's body when the time came.

"The woman you see here, is Todd's wife. He killed her because she had discovered his and Mrs. Lovett's secret. As for the woman in the oven, those must be the remains of Mrs. Lovett, as she is wearing the same golden necklace I had seen her wearing before. Todd decided to throw her into the oven when he realized that the woman he had just mistakenly killed, was the wife he thought to have been dead. A lie Lovett told Todd in the hopes that Todd would abandon his love for his wife and fall in love with her."

Lestrade wanted to be amazed at how Sherlock had deduced all of this but instead decided to focus on the single unanswered question, "So who killed Todd, then?"

Sherlock looked back at Lestrade, "Well, isn't it obvious? Tobias. That is why I asked where he is? He is the only murderer left alive."

Despite a long and thorough search the boy was never found. However, before leaving the scene of the crime, Sherlock took the necklace from around the corpse of Mrs. Lovett's neck and returned it to the owner, in exchange for the reward money. Watson was happy that they had no trouble paying their bills on time.


End file.
